


Zayn Hates Harry 21/7

by liquidmeasure



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M, crack maybe?, too bros to bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidmeasure/pseuds/liquidmeasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ANONYMOUS SAID: "zayn always says how niall is his lil brother, zouis is too bros to bro and zayn hates harry 21/7 but anyway..lol your url fits you"</p>
<p>A spur-of-the-moment response to an anon on <a href="http://drownedindeniall.tumblr.com/post/105636251832/zayn-always-says-how-niall-is-his-lil-brother">tumblr</a>. Because of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zayn Hates Harry 21/7

Harry is crying in the bathroom. Again. He doesn’t understand why it has to play out this way, all the name-calling. The stoney glares. It cuts him to the quick, the way Zayn treats him. He runs his hands over his face and watches himself in the mirror.

_Pull it together, Harold._ He wipes his eyes roughly on the back of a hand.  _It’s worth it. This is all worth it._

When he comes outside, they’re all sitting there in the lounge at the back of the bus, Niall playing guitar quietly and Liam teaching Zayn some stupid card game. Zayn looks bored, but like he’s humoring Liam. He always humors Liam. He always smiles at Liam’s jokes. Sorts out his collar when it’s crooked. He’s warm. Soft. Harry wonders what that feels like. To be on the receiving end of that softness. The casual warmth. He clears his throat and sniffles, trying to make out like he’s coming down with something. He doesn’t want Zayn to know. Doesn’t want him to know he’s been crying like a baby.

As he moves toward the bench seat at the back of the bus, he feels his ankle bump up against something unexpectedly. He falters and loses his balance, topples forward and falls on the floor like an idiot. He lands hard on one elbow and this is just great, isn’t it? He doesn’t want to get up. He wants to lie here forever.

“Woopseh daisy.” It’s Zayn’s voice. Cold and distant. Like he’s watching a stranger. Like he hasn’t just stuck his foot out and  _tripped_  Harry himself because Harry is certain now. He’s sure that’s what’s happened.

Harry rolls over on the floor and looks up at Zayn, questioningly.  _Why are you doing this? Why is it like this?_

Zayn just glances down at him with a total absence of interest or concern. Then he rolls his eyes almost imperceptibly. He brings his right arm up and holds it in front of him for a moment. Harry sees him tap his watch.  _Watch the time._

He feels heat rushing to his head. The bus lurches and he’s not sure if it’s the motion that’s giving him the spins or something else. Something deep inside him.

 

* * *

 

“What’s the one thing you simply cannot live without on tour?”

Harry feels exhausted. The same questions over and over. The same faces. The same four boys sitting in a row. He smiles cheekily and raises the mic to his mouth.

“Good question, Samantha. I’d have to go with…candles.” He hears Louis groan, and Niall sniggers. “The scented kind. A nice vanilla or like—”

“My phone. Is that boring? Got to text Soph every two minutes you know? I’ve got a couple games on there, some vids. I get pretty bored just sitting in hotels so like…yeah. My phone.”

Niall and Louis mumble their assent and look to Zayn, who shrugs.

“I dunno. Liam I guess.” He throws an arm around Liam’s shoulders, who grins happily and leans into his side. Harry wants to scream.

“Aw, that’s very sweet. You clearly love each other very much. Do you feel that close to all the boys, Zayn? Or is what you have with Liam something special?”

Zayn rubs at his lips with the side of his hand, his eyes lidded. He looks a little stoned.

“Nah, you know, we’re all great mates. Like Liam is my bestie, you know? He’s like my tour boyfriend.”

Liam chuckles “Whoa, watch it, Zayner.”

Niall guffaws. Zayn smiles and sits up.

“Louis is like…he’s my bro, you know? We’re tight...like we just wanna like skateboard before the show or like play FIFA. And Niall is like my little brother? Like he’s just…I feel like I wanna like look out for him. He’s my family.”

“And Harry?”

Zayn shrugs, suddenly disinterested.

“Harry’s good.”

Harry looks down at his hands.  _You can’t cry during an interview,_  he thinks,  _you can’t cry they’re all watching._

“I had the  _strangest_ dream last night, do you want to hear about it?”

He’s met with a chorus of groans.

 

* * *

 

He wanders sometimes, before a show. Wanders through the underbelly of the stadiums, looking for secret rooms and peoples’ offices and the weird hidden spaces where they store athletic equipment and other sports-related detritus. That’s how he finds Zayn and Louis, an hour and a half before showtime. They’re skateboarding in the employee parking garage and smoking a joint, passing it from person to person as they skate by each other, executing clumsy half-hearted ollies and slides.

He stands for a minute, just watching them. Zayn is awkward and fluid all at once. Like a walking contradiction. He’s smiling and laughing at something Louis just said, calling him “bro” and cackling like he’s genuinely completely happy.

Harry’s never really had a friend like that. Someone to feel entirely unselfconscious with. To sit around and eat snacks with and talk about girls with and play FIFA with and to be all…bros with.

“Check this out, bro!” Louis tries to ollie over a low cement barrier and catches the lip of the board on the way down. He lurches forward and makes a little screaming noise as he stumbles, hanging on to the waistband of his jean as if they’ll help keep him upright. Zayn laughs hysterically.

“Sick dive, bro! Haahahaha!” He shakes his head, and that’s when he catches sight of Harry. He stops laughing and furls his brow.

“What?”

Harry shakes his head, caught off guard.

“I…nothing. I was just watching.”

“Ooookay. Did you like…want something?”

“No, I—”

“What’s up, Haz?” Louis is jogging back toward Zayn, his board hanging from one hand. “You wanna have a go?”

“No, I—”

“I’m kidding, Harry. Jesus. I wouldn’t let you near one of these, you’d break you neck.”

“I’m not that—”

Zayn cuts him off.

“What the fuck is that on your head?”

Harry feels himself blushing. He folds his arms across his chest reflexively.

“It’s…a hat?”

Zayn runs his hand through his hair and rolls his eyes.

“It looks ridiculous. Jesus, you’re not wearing that tonight are you?”

His voice is hard and cruel. Mocking. Harry’s heart feels sped up. He feels like he might vibrate right out of his skin.

“No. I won’t wear it I just…I like it.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ve got to go—”

“Yeah sure.” Zayn is already turning his back.

Harry turns to go, his face hot.

“Hey!” It’s Zayn again. Harry wants to ignore him. He doesn’t. He turns. Zayn is looking right at him, his eyes narrowed.

“What time is it now?”

Harry glances at the watch on Zayn’s wrist, then up at his face.

“6:30.”

“Huh. Not long now.”

Harry swallows.

“Yeah. Not long.”

Zayn’s face betrays nothing.

 

* * *

 

He’s so amped up after the show, after the whole day, that he’s not sure what to do with himself when he gets back to the hotel. He showers for way too long, just holding his head under the stream with his eyes closed, trying to settle his nerves. He’s so lost in his own head he nearly misses the alarm on his phone.

He’s scrambling out of the shower and reaching for a towel when he hears the door open and then click shut. He wraps the towel around his waist and walks out into the room. He doesn’t get far. Zayn moves so fast when he wants to.

Harry finds himself pressed up against the bathroom door, one hand holding the top of the towel, pinned between their bodies. Zayn’s lips are on his throat, his jaw. He feels teeth grazing his ear lobe and his entire body feels electrified.

“Fuck, Harry. That was…” He kisses along Harry’s jaw, then covers Harry’s mouth with his own. His lips are warm and insistent and bruising. He pulls back and Harry breathes in. “The longest day ever. Jesus.”

“You were so…” Harry feels tears at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just…I want you so fucking bad it’s all I can think about. If I don’t push you away I just…I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

He’s pulling at the towel, his hands desperate and fumbling.

“It feels so real sometimes like…like you really hate me.”

Zayn drops to his knees in front of Harry and looks up at him, his eyes shining through his thick dark lashes.

“I do Harry. I fucking hate what you do to me.”

He takes Harry’s cock in his hand and strokes up and down his length, his hand firm and warm.

“I hate thinking about you. I can’t stop it. I hate feeling so out of control.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He takes Harry in his mouth and it’s so warm and wet and mind-blowingly hot Harry can’t think. He groans and presses the back of his head against the door.

“I just wish that…I wish it could be like this all the time.”

Zayn pulls back. “We can’t, Haz. We can’t let on, it would ruin everything.”

“I know.”

“So I’ve got to hate you. With everything I am. But just…just for those 21 hours. Just 21 hours everyday, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’ll spend the other three making it up to you I swear.”

Harry nods and shuts his eyes tightly and Zayn works his cock, moving his tongue along the length and teasing at the head. It feels amazing. It’s always felt amazing.

Zayn has always been a man of his word.

 


End file.
